


Thanks For The Lesson

by PsychoCalixteLove



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Rich Girl AU, devil au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 17:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11879553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychoCalixteLove/pseuds/PsychoCalixteLove
Summary: After Beca loses all her friends, she sells her soul to Kommissar, the Devil, and learns a valuable lesson about friendship and love.





	Thanks For The Lesson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Weird girl lol](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Weird+girl+lol).



“If that’s how you treat your  _ friends _ , then we can’t be your friends!” Chloe screamed as she shoved Beca and walked away with a group of girls following behind her. That was their final resignation. They had enough of Beca’s condescension so they were no longer her friends. Over the past few months, Chloe had told Beca about her behavior toward them, but the message clearly didn’t ring with Beca. Beca was known around school as the rich snob, the one who has all the money and power but none of the compassion like others. Long story short, she was an insensitive, little rich girl that almost everyone hated. Now, Beca was paying the price for it. She had lost all her friends and was now alone. She stood in the middle of the hallway, staring after her ex-friends, and tried not to cry. She may be insensitive, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel hurt. And hurt was all she was feeling. How could her friends leave her when she could give them everything? Everything except loyalty and all the other things that made friends,  _ friends, _ that is. Beca ignored the on looking bystanders and hurried to her next class, which as luck would have it, was with none of her now ex-best friends. She sat down at her desk and barely paid attention to what her History teacher was saying, jotting down a few facts she knew about World War II to look like she was paying attention. Once school was over, she went home as fast as she could and buried herself in the mountain of pillows that laid at the head of her bed.

All she could do was cry, whimper, and yell obscenities that had her parents concerned. The few times they came in, they didn’t do much at all. They poked their head in and started to ask if Beca was alright, but then they saw her destroyed bed and her mascara tear-stained face. Sometimes, they would come in with something Beca always asked for and place it on her desk, showing it to her before they left disappointed. Almost nothing could calm Beca down, and her parents eventually gave up trying to. It was almost midnight, and Beca was still crying, but they were now angry tears. She sat up in her bed, wiped her eyes, and realized she didn’t want friends, she wanted devoted followers. She smiled devilishly to herself, and said, “I don’t need them. They can burn in hell for all I care.” Suddenly, a ring of fire burned in front of her bed, and a tall, blonde woman with horns appeared in the center of said ring. She was wearing skinny jeans, a black shirt, and black leather jacket. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was examining the black, pointed nails on her left hand when she spawned. “I heard a mention of people burning in Hell. How can I help?” the woman said, briefly looking over to Beca. Beca was really confused as to who this woman was, and was about to ask when the woman continued, “Right, I’m the Kommissar. To you mortals, I’m known as ‘The Devil’.” Kommissar used the finger quotes to reference her alternate title, and placed her hands on her hips, looking around the room.

Beca took in the sight of this godly woman, starting with her legs and making her way up Kommissar’s body. Beca paid particular attention to Kommissar’s hands. The way they looked so soft yet lethal, nimble and agile, and simple yet intricate in its purposes all at once. Beca found her small obsession with Kommissar’s hands a bit strange, but then again, she found the fact that Kommissar just spawned in her room a helluva lot stranger. Beca’s eyes finally made their way up to Kommissar’s face where she was smirking with her eyebrows raised. “Are you finished undressing me?” Kommissar asked sarcastically, clearly noticing Beca’s stares. Beca snapped out of her slight daze and blushed as she stuttered, “I-I wasn’t trying to, but I guess.” Beca quickly looked down into her lap and messed with her hands to avoid staring at Kommissar. Kommissar rolled her eyes and asked, “Is there a problem? Because you won’t look at me.” Beca slowly brought her gaze back to Kommissar, centering on her hands, and said, “No. I guess I just expected you to . . . “ Beca didn’t finish her sentence, kind of afraid of how Kommissar would react. Kommissar turned her head to the side slightly, waving her hands lightly, and inquired, “Expected me to . . . what? Be a guy?” When Beca nodded her head gradually, Kommissar quickly ran a hand over her face and admitted, “As if I thought you couldn’t be more of an asshole.” Beca left her jaw open as she looked Kommissar in the face, attempting to apologize, but was left staring at Kommissar’s lips.

Kommissar detected the stares again, groaning lowly, and pushed Beca back onto the bed, climbing on top of her. She held Beca’s hands down onto the silk sheets as she glared down at her, using her powers to force Beca to speak. Beca felt how warm Kommissar was, and her first thoughts spilled from her mouth. “God, you’re hot. No pun intended.” Kommissar took a slight joy in watching this teenage girl get flustered by her, and while that’s not what she was here for, she would make the most of it. “I have an offer for you. Your  _ friends _ left you, right?” Kommissar quizzed, emphasizing ‘friends’ like she despised the word. Beca nodded her head, no longer capable of words, and kept her focus on Kommissar’s almost non-existent proximity. “Well, it just so happens I want something from you,” Kommissar continued, letting her eyes wander the area of Beca’s neck and face. Beca lightly bit her lip before she whispered, “And that is?” Kommissar smiled innocently, looked Beca in the eyes, and said, “Your immortal soul.” Beca was conflicted because Kommissar looked so sweet as she said something so morbid, and she opened her mouth to say something but closed it when she found she had nothing. Kommissar sensed Beca’s indecision and rose slightly from her, resting on all fours. Beca just stared at Kommissar in her entirety, and managed, “You want my what?” Kommissar smirked like she did before, cupped Beca’s cheek, and told her sweetly, “Your soul, Tiny Maus. Your immortal soul.” Beca melted under Kommissar’s bare touch, soft and warm like she expected, but still didn’t get what Kommissar meant. She only thought that immortal souls were fiction, and she thought the fact that the Devil actually wanted souls was even harder to believe.

“You clearly doubt my abilities and sincerity, so I guess I’ll have to prove it,” Kommissar stated, getting off Beca’s bed. She stood up, stripped her jacket, revealing muscular biceps, and tossed it aside. Beca sat up and watched as Kommissar snapped her fingers and suddenly, Jack Nicholson appeared next to her. He was confused for a second until he saw Kommissar and shouted, “Ah! If it isn’t Kommissar herself! How’s Hell been?” Kommissar gave him a quick hug, and told him, “You know. Hot as always.” Beca gaped at the interaction, knowing that Kommissar was the Devil for sure, and said, “Okay, I get it now. So, what’s this about my soul?” Jack looked between the two women and he was snapped back to his place in the world. Kommissar sat back down on Beca’s bed, and explained, “I shall give you your followers back in exchange for your soul. In simpler terms, you get your  _ friends _ back, and I get your being.” Beca nodded her head in understanding, and moved closer to Kommissar, looking her in the ironical ice blue eyes. “Okay, that seems easy enough. When can we make this official?” Beca asked, motioning to the air between them. “As soon as you want to be loved again,” Kommissar answered, leaning in. The sexual tension between them was increasing as they continued to get closer, and Beca whispered, “I want to be loved now.” Kommissar was barely a few inches from Beca when she sealed the deal with a kiss of death. They fell back on the bed, Kommissar settling between Beca’s legs, and Kommissar kissed Beca to steal her soul. Beca wrapped her arms around Kommissar’s neck and kissed her back, feeling a part of her being sucked from her.

Kommissar stuck her tongue in Beca’s mouth to finish getting the last bits of Beca’s soul from her and pulled away when she had all of it. Kommissar rested on her one hand as she snapped her fingers and said, “Now, you get your followers again.” Beca’s phone began buzzing with notifications that were from her ex-friends who were now under a spell of blind obedience. Beca glanced at her phone before turning back to Kommissar, telling her, “Damn, you work fast.” Kommissar smirked down at her and responded, “I’m also fast at other things, but that’s for later.” Kommissar patted Beca’s cheek lightly, and got off the bed, grabbing her jacket. Beca shot up, stared at Kommissar, and asked pleadingly, “Are you not going to stay?” Kommissar went back to Beca, kissed her gently, and replied, “I can’t. I have other matters to attend to.” With that, Kommissar stood back in the ring of fire she entered in, slung her jacket over her shoulder, and turned to ash as she left.

********

When Beca walked into school the next day, everyone who hated her was fawning over her, and she loved it. Sure, she was soulless, but she loved the attention more. No matter where she walked, people were taking pictures of her and following her like she was the next teenage heartthrob. She wore sunglasses to give her some form of privacy, but really she wore them because they made her look edgy. She had to admit that Kommissar was essentially a miracle worker, given she was the Devil, and all she asked for was her soul, which wasn’t too bad of a deal. Until Beca got into some trouble. The first incident occurred about a week after Beca sold her soul to Kommissar. She was just walking to her History class when she was stopped by the school bully, Bumper. He stepped in front of her, causing her to walk straight into him, and he sneered, “Watch where you’re going!” Beca backed up a few steps and looked up to meet his gaze. “You stepped in front of me, asshole!” she retorted, her snobbish attitude coming through. Bumper moved toward her, towering over her, and looked down at her. “Oh, so you think you can do whatever you want because you have all of your little followers behind you?” he challenged, glancing up at the people behind Beca.

Beca shrank back a bit, and mumbled, “Well, yeah.” Bumper didn’t let up on his verbal assault, and stepped closer, saying, “They aren’t your friends. They don’t care about you. They only care that you’re rich.” Beca backed away as Bumper continued to come closer to her, fearing a severe beating. Beca eventually backed into a wall of bodies, glanced back at them, and saw they weren’t doing anything but filming the confrontation. She immediately felt betrayed by all of them, even the ones she didn’t know. If they were her friends, why weren’t any of them standing up for her? Why were they only watching animatedly, and allowing her to be tormented by a bully? These questions ran through her mind while she tried to get away from Bumper. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get away in time, and she was pushed to the ground, landing on her back. She propped herself up on her elbows and glared up at Bumper. His words stung her, but she couldn’t really feel anything because she didn’t have a soul. Her mind knew she should feel attacked and she reacted as such. Tears formed in the backs of her eyes, and Bumper picked at her for that too. “Are you gonna cry now? Go ahead, no one will be there!” he shouted, bending down to make her feel small. By this time, a teacher came out after hearing the raucous and shooed everyone away, taking Bumper to the principal. Beca was helped up, but that was it. She was left alone by everyone. Beca began crying lightly and skipped her last class of the day to go talk to Kommissar. She went home, threw her backpack on her desk, and sat on her bed.

“Kommissar! Where are you?!” Beca yelled, knowing Kommissar would be able to hear her. In seconds, Kommissar materialized in her pajamas. She was wearing flannel sweatpants and a black long sleeve shirt pushed up to her elbows with her mussed hair down. She wiped at her face and groaned, “What?! Do you want at this hour?!” Beca didn’t think it was that early because it was two in afternoon, and she asked curiously, “What do you mean?” Kommissar sauntered over to the bed, lazily threw herself over it, and answered tiredly, “I sleep during the day dumbass. And you woke me up for your bullshit.” She closed her eyes, and listened to Beca rant, “You told me I’d get my friends back, and aren’t friends supposed to stand up for each other?” Kommissar sighed into a pillow, lying on her stomach, and told Beca, “Precisely.” Beca didn’t know what Kommissar was trying to tell her, and she said, “That doesn’t help!” Beca curled into a ball, buried her face in her hands, and started crying again. Kommissar opened one of her eyes, saw Beca’s distress, and told her, “Come here, Tiny Maus.” Kommissar reached out and pulled Beca to her by the waist, turning over onto her back. She positioned Beca’s head under her chin and allowed her to lay on top of her, to be consoled by her.

Beca nestled her head into Kommissar’s chest, submitting to the warmth there, and felt Kommissar wrap her arms around Beca, pulling her closer. “Now, think about what I’ve said, and go to sleep with me,” Kommissar said, dragging the blanket over the two of them. Beca did nothing as Kommissar’s warmth and gentle breathing null her to sleep. Beca felt something inside her change like part of her was returning to her, but it was sweet and warm, unlike anything she felt before. This new feeling only occurred when she was with Kommissar though.

********

The day after the next is when Beca truly felt alone. She was just doing her homework in her room when she got a notification from Facebook. She unlocked her phone and saw just how many  _ friends _ she had. Turns out, the videos of her confrontation with Bumper went viral and she was being accused of being a “prissy bitch who can’t fight back”. That’s not what hurt, though. What hurt her were the comments people posted. They called her all sorts of names, and she never felt so abandoned. The people posting the mean comments were her followers. The people who were supposed to love her. The people who she was supposed to look to for comfort. The people who were supposed to be her friends. She thought about what she’s done to get these friends and cried, knowing she had given up a part of her for these people. Almost out of nowhere, she had a small epiphany. She realized that no matter how rich you are, you can’t buy friends. That’s exactly what she tried to do with Kommissar. She sold her soul to get her friends back, but they ended up betraying her. As if being summoned by her very thought, Kommissar spawned behind her. Beca didn’t notice her as she cried into her bundled arms. Kommissar knew what was happening to Beca without even having to ask, and said, “Blind obedience isn’t the same, is it?” Beca lifted her head and turned around to the sound, getting excited to see Kommissar for some reason.

Beca stood up and ran to Kommissar, wrapping her arms around the woman. Beca roughly nuzzled her face into Kommissar’s pink t-shirt and whimpered, “No, it’s not Kommissar.” Kommissar gently hugged Beca back, resting her head on Beca’s, and began to explain, “You have to understand a few things, Maus. There is a mutual bond between friends. They can’t love you if you don’t love them. You have to treat each other like you’d want to be treated. You treated your friends poorly and in return, they broke away from you and treated you poorly. When you sold your soul to get them back, you still treated the same way and they betrayed you. Friends are there to comfort you when you feel sad. Friends are there to keep you company when you feel alone. Friends are there to joke around when you need it, but you have to do the same for them or else there’s no friendship.” Beca made the connection between what Kommissar was saying and her life, realizing she had one friend based off what Kommissar said. Beca pulled away slightly, looked up at Kommissar, and asked, “Are we, friends?” Kommissar looked back down at her, smiled genuinely, and told her, “I think we’re a little more than friends.” Beca blushed at the thought, but she didn’t have much time to think before Kommissar kissed her, restoring her soul. Beca felt her soul come back to her and finally identified what that feeling in her stomach was. She loved Kommissar.

Kommissar seemed to know what Beca realized and responded, “I love you too, Maus. Now, you have people to makeup with, right.” Kommissar handed Beca her phone and Beca nodded, saying, “Thanks for the lesson, Devil.”


End file.
